


apricate

by samisaywhat



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, POV Derek, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-09
Updated: 2013-09-09
Packaged: 2017-12-26 02:13:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/960365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samisaywhat/pseuds/samisaywhat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is perceptive and cunning, and Derek is a mystery waiting to be solved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	apricate

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this](http://other-wordly.tumblr.com/post/16072878155/apricate). Unbeta'd.

Kissing Stiles is like burning, but never in a way Derek has ever known before. A heat takes hold of his entire of his body and he melts completely into what Stiles gives him. It’s warmth that lights something within him.

More than anything, it feels like home.

Stiles is generous in sharing his space with Derek once they finally figure out just what is _it_ is. Stiles has his insecurities, and Derek has his fears, but they fall towards each other unconsciously all the same. Derek is the first to name _it_ and the revelation scares him more than any threat they’ve encountered before. He pushes away desperately, hiding himself under anger so that Stiles can’t see him. But Stiles is perceptive and cunning, and Derek is a mystery waiting to be solved. It doesn’t take Stiles long; he sees the weakness in Derek’s stance and hears the emptiness of his threats. Stiles sees through the mask and leaves invitations in the wake of his discovery. An open window at night and half of a bed left unoccupied. A text that simply reads, “I’m ready when you are.”

Derek isn’t ready when he climbs through the open window; doesn’t think he’ll ever be ready for anything more than fighting. But he thinks he could fight for Stiles and not be plagued by nightmares because of it. So he pushes himself over the threshold. Stiles turns around in his computer chair with a stupid grin on his face and tells Derek, “Took you long enough,” before getting up to meet him at the window. His arms wrap around Derek’s neck gingerly, but Stiles doesn’t do much else. Even under all of his courage, Stiles is careful and he treads the water with care.

Derek stares at him, listens to the sound of his heartbeat, and breathes in the scent of him. Stiles eyes are locked onto Derek’s, the bright amber dulled with fatigue and fondness. The lighting dyes the irises a deep mocha, and Derek could truly write poems about Stiles’ eyes if someone gave him enough time alone to do so. And Stiles is letting him stare his fill. His face is open but expectant, as if he’s waiting for some kind of permission or even rejection.

“Stop me,” is all Derek chooses to say as he tilts his head slightly to breathe a kiss into Stiles’ mouth. He conveys all of his fear and uncertainty into the pressing of lips. He speaks a story through their shared breaths, letting Stiles know that if he doesn’t push Derek away, he’ll keep wanting to take. And truthfully, Derek doesn’t know how much he’s allowed to take. He doesn’t know how much he wants.

“That would be really stupid,” Stiles grins into their kiss before pushing back into it with fervor, “ _This_ is the smartest thing you’ve ever done.”

They stay like that, Stiles pressed against Derek’s body by the window, for some time. Their kisses start off hungry and desperate but ease into laziness as the moon rises high in the sky. Derek doesn’t know how to stop kissing Stiles. He truly doesn’t want to. Stiles still has his arms around Derek’s neck, fingers stroking the hairs there lightly. It’s tender and completely unfamiliar, but Derek wants to welcome it.

The sound of a cruiser pulling up outside makes Derek pull away, and Stiles frowns at him briefly before his Dad calls for him from downstairs. He lets out a shaky laugh, rubbing his palms over Derek’s neck before dropping them back to his sides. Derek briefly wonders if Stiles knows what it means to freely touch such an area, or the intimacy behind it. He’s left without an answer when the Sheriff stalks up the stairs and he has to practically fling himself out the window. He can hear Stiles laughing from behind him and the sound of the Sheriff saying, “Do I want to know?”

He returns later in the night, feeling blissful as he slides in through Stiles’ open window. He closes it behind, feels good about being the one to do so. Stiles is already in his bed, breathing slow and steadied. It’s the most relaxed Derek has ever seen him. Stiles is usually bouncing around constantly with too much energy. Derek has never seen him remotely still, even when he’s deep in thought. His fingers will tap against whatever surface is available without rhythm, or his leg will bounce erratically. But here in his room, in his bed, in the night, Stiles is an unknown image that Derek wishes to learn more of.

It’s not a difficult decision to crawl into Stiles’ bed. He tiptoes out of his boots and slips out of his jacket, letting the leather fall to the floor beside Stiles’ bed. There isn’t much room on the twin-sized mattress, but Derek is determined to make it work. His hands ache with the need to touch Stiles so he places them gently along the skin of his arm. Stiles’ breath hitches but he doesn’t awaken just yet, not until Derek starts urging him over on the bed. Stiles groans tiredly, eyes opening slowly before he flails his way into a sitting positions. He brings his arms up to his body defensively, blinking wildly against the darkness. Derek can sense the panic in the air so he grabs Stiles by the wrists and announces his presence in a small voice.  

“You asshole,” Stiles hisses, “I swear to God… you scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry.” Derek offers weakly. Stiles just sighs and tugs his wrists out of Derek’s loose grip. Derek silently despairs over the loss of contact before Stiles pulls him down onto the bed eagerly. They fall into the mattress, lips finding each other in the darkness. It’s an urgent kiss from Stiles’ side, as if he was hoping Derek would show up. His hands find their way into Derek’s hair, running through the dark strands in comforting strokes. Derek leans into the feeling, eyes closed, and disrupts the kiss. Stiles doesn’t move back in right away. He stares in awe at Derek, hands never ceasing their movements.

Derek opens one eye to glance at Stiles. His eyes are wide, pupils blown as he takes in the sight of Derek. He never managed to close his mouth after all the kissing and his lips are still swollen and wet. Derek kisses him again lightly, lips only lingering for a moment.

Stiles hands pull away from his hair and Derek whines low in his throat. The chuckle he receives in reply forces a glare to his face. Stiles just smiles at him and cups Derek’s cheeks, stubble rough against Stiles’ softer skin. He runs his fingertips delicately over the contours of Derek’s face, jawline to cheekbones. Derek lets him do as he pleases, lets him map out Derek’s face and commit it to memory.

“Stop that,” Stiles says softly as he rubs his index finger into the space between Derek’s eyebrows. He keeps rubbing until Derek allows his face to relax. Stiles nods smugly, trailing his fingers over Derek’s eyelids, smiling gleefully as Derek closes his eyes to allow him.

“I didn’t think I’d get to do this. It’s different then just looking,” Stiles smiles. His hands have stopped moving, but still cup Derek’s face tenderly. Derek turns his head so that his mouth is pressed against Stiles’ palm. He places a kiss against it, drawing a sharp breath from Stiles.

“I’ll let you,” Derek murmurs against Stiles’ skin.

“Let me what?”

“Touch me,” Derek says as he rubs his cheek into Stiles’ palm, his scent being pushed into the lines of his hands. Derek doesn’t tell him how much he desires it, how much he needs it. He can’t remember the last time someone has touched him freely, the last time someone has wanted to touch him just because. He touches people absently, body craving the contact. The need vibrates through him and dissipates with Stiles so close. He feels content with Stiles beneath him, their bodies sharing heat and space.

“Really? I remember when you actually _glared_ my hand off of you.” Stiles smirks smugly, sounding breathless.

“That was difference. You were annoying.”

“So you’re telling me that I’ve grown on you?”

“No. You’re still annoying,” Derek scowls poorly. Stiles doesn’t seem to care because he wraps his arms around Derek’s neck and pulls him in for more kisses. Stiles’ body twitches under him, brimming with newfound energy now that he’s awake. Derek pulls away and off of Stiles, earning a sound of indignation from him. He snorts, but rolls to lie beside Stiles, pushing under his body until Stiles is half on top of Derek.

“Sleep. You have school tomorrow,” Derek says. Stiles groans but puts his head onto Derek’s chest anyway, muttering about the soft fabric of his Henley and the warmth radiating off his body. Derek knows that humans don’t retain heat the same way. He remembers his human siblings complaining about it as they bundled up for winter while Derek continued to wear his light jacket.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Stiles says suddenly. Derek stops breathing for a moment and Stiles’ heartbeat races with uncertainty. Derek wraps his arms around him to assure him while he thinks of what to say in return.

“It’s alright. I just wanted to say it. You don’t have to say anything,” Stiles pulls up to look at Derek. His eyes are soft and more confident than his heart would suggest.

“You were right.” Derek decides to say.

“About?”

“This.” Derek clarifies, “This is the smartest thing I’ve done.”

Stiles gapes at him while a blush settles along his skin. It’s a fire under his moles that spreads to his neck, leaving warmed skin behind. Derek runs a hand along Stiles cheek to chase it, bringing it back out to worsen the reddened state of Stiles’ face.

“Thanks,” Stiles whispers, kissing Derek for the final time that night. It’s a short but sweet kiss, Derek allowing Stiles to command it completely. Once he’s satisfied, he shimmies down until he can rest his head against Derek’s chest again.

Stiles falls asleep soon after, his breathing evening out slowly. Derek stares at the ceiling and contemplates falling asleep as well. Stiles’ room is comforting, full of his scent. Derek’s own scent lurks under it, fighting to merge. It’s not home, not yet, but it’s close. 

Derek closes his eyes. 

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on tumblr at [ruleandretreat](http://ruleandretreat.tumblr.com).


End file.
